Captivated By The Brooding Billionaire. Rebecca Winters

      “Exactly. Too much peace and tranquility needs some stirring up. Byron saw nature as a companion to humanity. Certainly natural beauty was often preferable to human evil and the problems attendant upon civilization, but Byron also recognized nature’s dangerous and harsh elements.

      “Have you ever read ‘The Prisoner of Chillon’? It connects nature to freedom, while at the same time showing nature’s potentially deadly aspects in the harsh waves that seem to threaten to flood the dungeon during a storm and—” But she suddenly stopped speaking.

      “Please go on,” he urged her.

      “Sorry. I forgot I wasn’t teaching a class. Though I’m ready to move on with the girls tomorrow, I’ll never be sorry I was sent here to work. I’ve always had a special love for that poem.”

      “We’re looking at the Château de Chillon right now.” The lake steamer had pulled up to its dock.

      She nodded. “It’s a magnificent château. I’ve been through it half a dozen times, but after seeing the dungeon where the Swiss patriot Bonivard was imprisoned, I’ve been haunted by Byron’s words.”

      “Can you quote any of it?”

      Her eyes lit up. “Would you believe I memorized all 392 lines in high school for a contest?”

      There was fire in her. He sat back against the side of the boat. “Did you win?”

      “Would it sound like bragging if I said yes?”

      She was getting to him in ways he would never have imagined. “I bet you could still recite it.”

      Abby shook her head. “That was too long ago.”

      He leaned forward. “I know I read it in my teens with my grandfather who loved Byron’s works, but I would be hopeless to recall it. Come on. Give me a taste of it. We’re right here where he was inspired. Enchant me.”

      She cocked her blond head. “Maybe some of the first part.”

      “I’m waiting.” Mon Dieu—he was far too attracted to her for only having known her such a short time. Whatever was happening to him had come like a bolt out of the blue and wasn’t about to go away.

      Once she started to recite, the emotion she conveyed filled him with a myriad of disquieting sensations.

      “My hair is grey, but not with years,

      Nor grew it white

      In a single night,

      As men’s have grown from sudden fears:

      My limbs are bowed, though not with toil,

      But rusted with a vile repose,

      For they have been a dungeon’s spoil,

      And mine has been the fate of those

      To whom the goodly earth and air

      Are bann’d, and barr’d—forbidden fare;

      But this was for my father’s faith

      I suffered chains and courted death;

      That father perish’d at the stake

      For tenets he would not forsake;

      And for the same his lineal race

      In darkness found a dwelling-place;

      We were seven—who now are one”

      The last two lines she’d recited brought back remembered pain. He could have rewritten them. ‘In darkness found a dwelling place. We were three—who now are one.’

      As he sat there staring at Abby, he suffered guilt for finding himself so intensely attracted to her. It seemed a betrayal to Angélique’s memory. It wasn’t this woman’s fault—nor her desirability nor the recitation that had reached his soul, reminding him of the tragedy. He felt Abby had gone to another place too.

      “Byron was a great poet,” Raoul said in a voice that sounded thick to his own ears. “Thank you for bringing his words to life for a few minutes so eloquently.”

      She shifted in place while she looked at the château in the distance. “It hurts to know how men have been persecuted. Byron had many problems, physical and otherwise. I believe his suffering came through in that poem.” Raoul felt she’d suffered too and wanted to know how.

      “There’s no doubt of it. No wonder you were chosen to help on the film.”

      She smiled. “I love what I do.”

      He stared hard at her. “Do you love it enough to come to France for a few days?”

      A stillness washed over her. “What did you say?”

      “I asked if you would like to spend some time with me at my home in Burgundy. You said your life needed a little stirring up. Your friends are welcome too.”

      His question seemed to have shaken her. It took her a long time before she said, “You’re only saying this because you think the news about Auguste has ruined everything for us.”

      “Not at all. You’re not the type of person to fall apart because of a change in plans. I’m quite sure your friends aren’t either. That isn’t the reason I’ve invited you.”

      He wanted to tell her about “Labyrinths of Lavaux” but wanted to approach her slowly. Maybe asking her to lunch would help her stay with him long enough to entertain the possibility that he was telling her the truth about his uncle’s find.

      She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

      “There’s something I’d like to show you because I know you would be one person who would appreciate it. If you’ll come to lunch with me, I’ll give you details.”

      He sensed she’d try to put him off again, but after this talk on the lake, he was driven by an idea that refused to let go of him.

      “If you say no after our lunch, then I’ll take you back to the château and that will be the end of it.”

      Without waiting for a response, he started the engine. “Louis will be happy to know this speedboat seems to be in fine working order, but I’ll open up the throttle to be certain.”